Outcast
by Cinnamonpool
Summary: They were outcasts in every way; by how they acted, by what they did, but mostly, by who they were. They were PokeMorphs, half human, half Pokemon. Also known as freaks.
1. Prologue: Unwanted

**Outcast**

**---**

**They were outcasts in every way; by appearance, by normality, but mostly, by what they were.**

**---**

**Prologue: Unwanted**

I was five years-old when my parents threw me out. They called me freak and literally chucked me out the window. I didn't understand then; I didn't know why they hated me so much, why they always called me stupid, or freak, or ugly, or how I didn't break my bones on the way out of a three-story window.

Heck, I didn't even know that I was adopted.

But I ran. I remember the day so vividly, so distinctly that it hurts to think about it.

_---_

_I hit the ground hard, my head spinning as it worked overtime to take in what had just happened. I was exceptionally talented, with an IQ equivalent to that of a fifth grader. Shaking my head and watching with slight amusement as snowflakes fell off my head, I looked up. _

_The skies were fairly clear, unusually so for a snowy afternoon. A few wispy clouds drifted lazily behind bare, smooth cedars and maples. That's when I ran. My wavy golden-copper hair billowed out behind me, trailing like a cape of shining colors. I wasn't wearing much, but I wasn't cold either, though my fingers were stuffed in my pockets in a nonchalant manner._

_I just notice those things._

_I also remember how I didn't pay attention to how fast I was going, or where I was going, but that I felt weightless, like I was merely a feather riding the breeze. Despite that though, I knew that in a matter of 14 minutes and 29 seconds, I'd traveled exactly 7.16 miles. _

Impossible_, I thought at the time._

_Sitting down on a flat, slick rock implanted next to a glittering, frozen-over lake, I pulled out a pencil and some paper. Those things I carried around at all times for writing; an unusual habit for a child as young as I was. I remember the searing white pain as the paper slipped and slit a centimeter long cut across the tip of my second finger. Immediately, my left hand went to cradle it gently. I blew on it, trying to lessen the pain._

_What I didn't expect was the tip to suddenly flicker with fire. _

_Although I was smart for my age, my maturity wasn't at the same level. I still had the heart of a five year-old, and, delighted with this new discovery, I blew on my other fingers. So my amazement, the harder I blew, the larger the flame, and I experimented with trying to control the flames. Literally, I acted like a child being given a new toy._

_That afternoon, I learned something about my kind._

_---_

I sighed, twirling the delicate stem of a daffodil and watching the wind ruffle its soft yellow petals. Here I was, at the exact same lake I first stopped by exactly eight years ago. There were more trees now, towering oaks and rowans were added to the mix. A young, bird-like creature was perched neatly on a high branch. The new stalks of grass swayed gently, and white muzzle of a Rattata poked out of a hole.

Slowly, it made its way to me.

"It's okay," I hummed softly, though not in English or Pokemon. Its ears flickered towards my voice, seeking the source. Intelligent black/brown eyes stared piercingly at me.

I laughed. Then, my phone rang, and that's when all the fun ended.

* * *

Sparks ignited at the Oak Laboratory. It was like someone had dropped a bomb, sending out shock-waves for at least a six-mile radius. Smoke twisted around the building, taunting the world.

My large Pidgeot form's keen eyesight allowed me to scan the building and survey the damage, not that I needed it, though. I almost choked with laughter. Suddenly, my vision targeted a small dent in the burnt walls, where it was still glowing a molten red. It immediately began breaking down and analyzing every small detail.

The sharp, undeniable scent of live human wafted through my mind, and with a deft twist of my wing, the thick smoke was ripped away by a miniature twister. There was a human there, lying pitifully on the ground, curled tightly into a half-moon shape. I sniffed disdainfully, my Pidgeot nature taking over.

They were proud, haughty birds that had no interest in helping humans, but did so because it was the only option.

I shook my head, dispelling the thoughts, and tucked my wings close to my side, tilting downwards at a steep angle. At the last minute, before I could kill the human or possibly shatter several bones, I pulled out of my dive-bomb. It was a man with graying hair and a slightly wrinkled but friendly face, though his expression was that of a grimace. Everyone knew him as the famous Professor Oak.

Then, instinct took over. Despite their attitude towards people, Pidgeot were naturally bred to carry passengers or important items around. Their thick, layered plumage made them resistant to water, which trickled harmlessly over the top layers that acted like a shield to protect their soft down feathers.

Their broad backs provided room for at least two people, and their powerful tail feathers acted as a steering wheel.

Their eyesight was infallible and precise; not a single detail was lost in their range of sight.

Delicately, I dropped him in a pile of moss and flew back to the fire.

Only to find others putting it out.

The fire had been reduced to nothing but a badly singed building with a few lines of steam simmering out from the still-burning steel walls. A beautiful cream, blue, and red-pink sea serpent hovered in the air, levitating solely on aura. The power emanating from its body was of an incredible magnitude, far more potent than even a Lucario, the aura guardian himself.

Its head swiveled upon my appearance. Then, a shudder racked its body, and I was staring into a pair of vibrant green eyes.

She was only a girl of - here, my mind did a scan of her aura - 13 years and four months. Her mousy brown hair was pushed back by a dark green headband adorned with pink and yellow jewels to form a lotus on the left side. A green tee-shirt that looked to big for her hung loosely on her petite frame with a matching pair of baggy white jeans with a green hibiscus curling on the legs.

Beside her, another figure suddenly dropped down. At first, I couldn't tell who, or what, it was, but then the shadowy tendrils rippled together to create the shadowy form of an older boy of 15. His violet eyes were cold and calculating, intimidating me with just one look. He had a better-fitting black jacket with intricate purple designs. His pants were black as well, and the only actual colorful part about him was his shoes, which were gold with, yet again, a streak of black thunder. His pale hand went to brush a lock of raven-black hair out of his face.

"What have you found, Kaz?" He asked, voice compelling and as melting as honey. The girl, presumably 'Kaz', shrugged, eyeing me warily before looking up at the boy again.

"Dunno, probably some type of Aerial or Ice, or - " She trailed off, staring at him in what seemed to be concern as he clenched his teeth. His eyes were deadly as he spoke.

"That - is not - an Aerial - or Ice. That - is a freaking - Elementalist," he snarled, visibly straining to keep his temper in check. Kaz stared up at him in shock, green eyes wide and unbelieving, searching his to find an ounce of falseness in them. I took a step back hesitantly, unsure of whether I should run or ask them that they were talking about.

"But there hasn't been one for so many million years!" Kaz protested. Um, yeah. Probably a good time to run. But before I could get any farther, I felt myself being lifted into the air and suddenly, I couldn't see the ground anymore. I did what any normal person would do in the situation.

I screamed. The guy holding me looked down and smirked mockingly.

"Don't waste your time; no one's going to hear you."

I should've noticed this earlier, but I realized that we were running at an impossible speed of 200 miles per hour inside of a shadowy realm.

_Wow_, I'm unobservant!

* * *

**Please review! Constructive criticism is appreciated!**


	2. The Wolf and the Woodland Sprite

**Outcast**

**Chapter 1: The Wolf and the Woodland Sprite**

---

I could lie, and say that the trip over wasn't as scary as crap. I could lie, and say that the place they brought me to was a fancy hotel. I could also lie and say that all the people there were wonderfully friendly people. But, again, that would be lying.

---

Several times on that trip, I met Kaz's pitying, brilliant green eyes. Each time, I felt a flare of anger burn inside my chest, and each time, she looked away quickly, as if embarrassed. My mind shot cruel comments at her, despite the fact that it truly wasn't her fault. It was the person who was carrying me. I tilted my head up a bit to scan his face. They tell everyone's story, because there's no way to hide your face, unless paper bags are this year's fashion.

His was smooth and the surface lustrous, although there was a small jagged cut across his cheek, probably created by a misaimed sword or arrow. The endless violet orbs that intimidated me were hard and unforgiving; so maybe I wasn't the only one having a hard time living my life. The coldness was forced, though, concealing what I knew was the pain and hurt of losing someone close to him. This explained his harsh, indifferent attitude. He was afraid of letting someone get close to him, only to lose them again. There was a carefully composed expression on his face, like he'd practiced it many times before. He was like me: if he let the mask drop, he would never be able to stop crying. Sort of like he was hiding from himself, meaning he felt that he was guilty for losing whoever he lost.

Hands were great resources as well, and his were smooth, but with a certain roughness to them. His grip showed that he was most adept at using a sword, and the small gashes showed the times when he was smaller, that he'd failed to properly hold it and ended up injuring himself. But none were too deep, or too wide, so they'd never hindered his fighting prowess. The Wolf.

Kaz was a little harder, but maybe I was looking in too far, and maybe she didn't really have any troubles with her life. She could possibly be the type of person who found light in all things. But her face was wilder, and more rugged. Maybe not hardy, but rugged, like she could stand up to severe temperature changes, but not illnesses. Her gestures were quick and jerky, and her eyes were always alert, always watching, vulnerable and like anything would hurt her at any moment and she had to be prepared. Still, there was an subtle beauty about her, and she looked like she flitted from one place to another rather than walked. It was like being out in the wilderness, everything growing there so common, yet so fresh and alive. Her entire form was so small, and so delicate, my mind instantly flickered to the thought of her being in a fairy-tale. I couldn't help asking the question on my mind.

"You were found in the forest, weren't you?" I blurted suddenly. Kaz and the Wolf stared at me icily, but Kaz nodded her head. The Wolf only looked pissed.

I smiled to myself as two words popped instantly into my head: Woodland Sprite.

*

We arrived at a decent-looking area with colorful, circus-like tents set up. Great. Me, the freakshow, goes to the camp of freaks. There were a few kids notching arrows onto their flexible yew bows, aiming at red-and-white targets. The moment we entered, we were met with inquisitive stares. Unconsciously, I tugged at the hem of my silver jacket, slightly embarrassed by the undivided attention. A few guys were whispering to each other, and the girls didn't stop talking. An ice-blue haired girl waved at Kaz, beckoning her and pointing at me questioningly. Her hair was unruly and curly, and she wore a white-silver shirt designed with crystals at the center. She had on a pair of light blue jeans and a cerulean-colored sweater that ended two inches above her waist and was tied in a bow. I saw Kaz mouth the words,_ elemental_, and the girl's mouth drop open with shock.

Moments later, a stocky, shorter-than-average lady walked over, glaring over her steel-rimmed glasses.

"What is the meaning of this, Damien?" she hissed, her rhetorical question directed at the Wolf. Well, he had a name. In a whispery, low voice, Damien replied,

"She's an elemental." I was met with the same reaction as the blue-haired girl: unabashed shock. Nervously, I wiggled the fingers on my right hand in a greeting and said timidly,

"Hi?" Her gaze snapped to meet mine.

"Welcome to the world of PokeMorphs," she snapped stiffly. Huh, who would've thought that a director would be so ... so _nice_. I knew I was being pranked. Sure, I saw the evidence, with my flaming fingers and my but really? Honestly? But their gazes were stern and serious. I swallowed. Either they were really good actors, or this was reality. Kaz sensed my hesitation, and, obvious knowing about her hot temper, quickly added,

"This is real, Ataira." How the heck did she know my name?

"I read your aura." Holy crap, did she just read my mind?

"Um, yeah, doesn't take a genius to figure that out, does it?" I was quickly learning that asking myself questions in my head wasn't the best idea. And, I learned that the Woodland Sprite was more relaxed around the other PokeMorphs.

"A, yes, and the sad thing is that it took you so long to figure that out, b, don't call me a Woodland Sprite -" This was met by a peal of laughter, which she silenced with an hopelessly sorrowful look, "and c, yes, I happen to like being around my kind. So now, do you believe us?" I nodded slowly, still a bit tentative. She brightened instantly, her moods changing faster than I could run.

"Great!" Then, her mood dampened again.

"You really came at the wrong time." Everyone winced at the mention of something I didn't know. "We're in the middle of a war, you know, with trainers. Plus, they've teamed up with Team Rocket, Mew knows why, and they've produced new war creatures. That's why your parents threw you out; because it was either kill you, or be killed." I cringed. Oh, how interesting. Being the self-conceited jerks they were, they decided to throw me out instead. I live with a loving family.

"But you know, Keisa keeps telling me that the tooth fairy won't come and help us win the war," growled Kaz, shooting a glare at the blue-haired girl who was Keisa. I stared unsurely at her, then said,

"The tooth fairy isn't real..." Kaz threw her hands up in exasperation and rolled her eyes.

"Geez, that's exactly what Keisa said! Next thing you know, you'll be telling me Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny aren't real," she screeched, oblivious to the wide eyes that were staring at her in amazement. And the sad thing was that I was one-hundred percent sure she wasn't joking.

"But anyways," Kaz said, her demeanor serious again, "we have Mission 4-C tomorrow. You know they hate us, right?" She said the last part so softly and I knew it was only for me to hear. I didn't need to ask to know who "they" were. They were the trainers.

*

I was already amazing at the bow and arrow, and the sword was easy as well, now. But I preferred transforming into a Pokemon form to attack.

"Remember," Keisa had informed me, "don't show that you're a PokeMorph unless your cover is blown."

She was an archer, and a supreme one at that. She'd developed poison-barbed arrows that you were unable to pull out. You were either killed upon impact, or the poison would get to you. They were designed like a porcupine's quills: impossible to pull out. Plus, she was Kaz's sister, as well as daughter to the boss. The lady whom had yelled at Damien, was Ms. Halcheim. She was the director of this particular camp.

Mission 4-C, I learned, was the third part of their fourth mission that period. The basic idea was to capture the trainer's supply of Pokemon, so they were left defenseless and unable to attack. It was obvious the PokeMorphs preferred a less violent tactic, instead choosing to be defensive while being offensive.

I'd also learned that laying low usually kept you out of prying trainer eyes. My eyes darkened as I remembered the lesson I had overheard in a trainer's school.

---

_Mildly chilly, it was the perfect kind of almost-summer afternoon. Usually, Kaz or Keisa were forced to manipulate the tiny water droplets in the air to cool our burning bodies. I was at my favorite spot again, twisting yet another daffodil stem on my finger, careful not to crack it. Its petals were being ruffled in the wind, fluttering in a little staccato rhythm. _

_The hills were rolling and endless. I sat on a rock amongst the wheat fields that were speckled with many-colored flowers. A small, white butterfly fluttered from daffodil to rose. A small cabbage white butterfly, or pieris rapae. _

_The lake was as beautiful as I had remembered, its glittering, crystal-blue water shining as I marveled at its depth. _

_A gleaming silver fish sprung out of the water, arching its back like a professional gymnast, which it definitely could be. Then, its scales flashed again and it dove back into the water again._

_To me, it was another reminder that not everything was a Pokemon, that there were animals as well._

_That's when I heard the children's laughter. _

_I followed it, tracking on hearing alone. They blundered about, and their footsteps were, to me, louder than if you banged two cymbals together. They were poking at a tiny scrap of fur. Its weak, pitiful cries were completely lost at the children. I had no idea what possessed me then. Perhaps I felt a connection to the poor Pokemon, being ambushed just like I had been. Or perhaps it was just compassion for all living things that drove me. _

_I stormed up to the nearest kid, a boy who was obviously the leader of the group._

_"What do you think you're doing?" I snarled. I could see why Damien had so much trouble trying not to explode at Kaz. The others looked at me in fright, trembling as they replied in unison,_

_"But Mr. Bradford and Mr. Levthian say that Pokemon are only little pests in life who don't deserve to walk the face of this planet." They stumbled over the words 'pest' and 'deserve'. Mew preserve, they probably weren't even old enough to ride a bike! _

_"And where exactly do you go to school?" My voice strained and was a little harsher than I meant for it to be. Gulping, the boy pointed over a narrow ridge, where they had thrown all their backpacks. I nodded curtly, and I could hear the boy breath a sigh of relief. Cringing, I realized exactly how frightening I had seemed to them and had half a mind to apologize, but the other half screamed at me to check out the school. Can't ignore the screaming side of your mind._

_Once the kids were out of sight, I cleared the entire rocky formation in one bound, my feet barely touching the thick, luscious grass as I leaped towards the school. There was a single window, and it was poorly built, but it was a school nonetheless. A shabby wooden sign stood at the front, reading:_

_Welcome to Lakeside Trainer's Academy, a school for the poor._

_Well, that was nice; just tell the people that they're poor. Real smooth. But what bothered me was what they were talking about. There was a male voice, oily and what he thought was persuasive. Peering through the window, I could see a man in his late thirties holding a ruler and pacing around in front of rows of students. His eyes were full of hatred as he spoke, pausing to glare at them menacingly when he got into more detail. _

_The children were standing stiffly, hand behind their backs, positioned so close that you could squeeze a pencil through even if you tried. There were twenty-six of them, all rigid at attention. Their eyes were wide as he spoke._

_"Pokemon are just taking up our air, space, and food. What right to they have to sit in their cozy little homes, full of food, in the middle of the winter, while we starve?" roared the man. The children hollered back, excited and frenzied. It was like looking at a shark lecturing a school of piranhas about what to eat and what not to eat._

_The man waited until they had calmed down, before continuing,_

_"Just think. If we could rid the world of those pestilences, we would have all the resources this world gives, to ourselves! We would be rich!" The children were whipped into another frenzy._

_Remember, these kids are young enough to still need someone to help them tie their shoes._

_These little, tiny three to six year-olds are being taught such violence and cruelty towards Pokemon. Un - freaking - believable. I listened more, but it seemed like they'd moved on to 1+1 addition._

_This was valuable information nonetheless. _

_It was that human hatred towards Pokemon were taught. _

_But what about PokeMorphs? What about PokeMorphs?_

* * *

**Please review! Constructive criticism will really help.**


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